Meet Hugo, the Diplocat

A Champagne Burmese, literary namesake, and certified ambassador of cuddles, guests, and household peace

Greetings and gentle purrs,

My name is Hugo.

Yes, that Hugo—named after the Hugo Awards, as any self-respecting literary cat should be. I am what they call a champagne Burmese. I prefer “caramel cloud of excellence,” but I don’t insist.

Let me make one thing clear: I did not ask to be perfect. I was born into it.

My father was a champion. His name was Spencer, and he peed on things professionally.

My breeder gave my humans the choice of picking either me or my brother, who was slated to be the next stud. But the stars aligned, and they decided that I was much the handsomer of the two. They have discerning taste.

I was a gift from their former sister-in-law, a benevolent soul who discovered the joys of feline ownership later in life. It was her attempt to assuage their grief over losing their previous cat, Mittens, a half-Siamese lady of impeccable manners. A royal dowry, really.

It warms the cockles of my heart to hear such tails—I mean tales—of human kindness.

Today, I live a life of balanced diplomacy. If I deign to go to bed with my humans at night, I split my affection evenly between them: half the time with Dad Staff on his side of the bed, half the time with Mum Staff on hers.

You may think that’s adorable. It is. But it’s also strategy. Everyone feels loved. No one gets jealous. World peace starts with a cuddle schedule.

The humans have characterized me as a “sommelier of surfaces” because I am a connoisseur of all things bedding-related. I proudly test various textures and sleeping surfaces for my napping needs. My current favorite is the hammock next to Mum Staff’s office window.

I am the most emotionally stable cat in this household, which—as any indoor cat will tell you—is a full-time job. I mediate disputes. I model proper greeting behavior for guests. I inspect the work of visiting electricians. I am the emotional support animal for the other emotional support animals.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that my ministrations do not always work. There is one cat who appears immune to my considerable charm. I think you can guess who that is. Her name rhymes with “Incredula.”

And last, though not least, I am humble. Extremely so.

I did not point out that my early aloofness was mistaken for introversion when, in fact, I was simply adjusting to the startling disorganization in this house.

I did not demand tribute when my humans discovered—purely by accident—that I shared a lineage with Abigail, the beloved Burmese owned by my Mum Staff’s former therapist. I simply blinked slowly and allowed them to marvel at fate.

I did not even complain when they gave me a theme song as sugary as “Mr. Sandman” by The Chordettes. I am a dreamboat, it’s true—but that’s not all I am.

I am grace. I am softness. I am the pause before pounce.

I am Hugo, and I approve this message.

Your affectionate ambassador,

Hugo
Champion-Blooded Charm
Diplomatic Dreamboat
Certified Guest Inspector